


Coping Mechanisms

by Carriwitchets



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Finally Matthew and Leila can reunite, Gen, Thank you FEH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carriwitchets/pseuds/Carriwitchets
Summary: Life was so much simpler when Matthew only had to worry about pretending to be someone else and trying not to get stabbed in the back. Now there are other worlds, portals, and most complicated of all—familiar red hair and the flash of a sharp but loving smile in the corner of his eye. Matthew wasn’t sure of many things, but he was sure that those who were buried should most likely remain dead. Shouldn’t they?
Relationships: Leila/Matthew (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Coping Mechanisms

It was implausible for each and every Hero (“Hero”, Matthew always thought to himself with extra quotation marks, since it wasn’t like he really fit that archetype at all) to watch each and every summoning session. At that point, there were just too many of them, and the last thing they needed was for all activity in the castle to grind to a halt when the Summoner decided to give summoning another go.

So honestly, the fact that he was there when the Summoner fired that odd weapon on this entirely nondescript day was pure chance. He covered a yawn behind a hand lackadaisically, not even bothering to hide how little interest he had in the entire proceeding, Athena stoic and calm beside him as she watched with sharp eyes. It had long been decided, though it had yet to be necessary, to have Heroes on hand in case something went wrong with the summoning somehow, or on the rare off-chance that an aggressive Hero was somehow summoned. Matthew found the possibility incredibly unlikely, though the prepared paranoia spoke to him enough that he didn’t argue when he drew the short straw.

You never knew what you’d get, after all. Just because something hadn’t happened yet didn’t mean it couldn’t happen someday.

Still, his posture was lax as yet another handful of orbs was sacrificed to the art of summoning more Heroes to their cause, only half-watching to see who would step out.

(Red hair, sharp eyes, a curve of a cheek so familiar it made his heart ache, that strong stubborn jaw--)

Matthew was gone before the sharp glow of the summoning had faded, not even a footprint remaining to indicate that he’d ever been there.

Leila, distracted by her sudden new circumstances, flicked her gaze over to that empty space for only a moment. She thought for certain she’d sensed more pairs of eyes than just these few, but… then there were introductions and welcomes to be made, information to be gathered, and she could focus only on that.

\--  
  
Matthew couldn’t avoid Leila forever--he knew that. He didn’t _want_ to avoid Leila; it had been an immediate response, his fight or flight instincts kicking in before he could even process what was happening. He just knew, simply and plainly, as plainly as he knew how to sharpen a knife or decode a message: _it couldn’t happen there_.

Instead, their reunion happened so casually and nondescript that it was almost insulting to the very concept of romance. This was by design, of course; Matthew spent a few hours watching, waiting for her to be situated, waited until the buzz around her faded so that he could casually, oh-so-casually stroll over to say hello once she had made it outside of the castle, where they were far less likely to be interrupted. That was the last thing he needed… Matthew could so easily imagine Serra shriekingly giving up the game immediately, white-gloved hands pressed to her open mouth as she stared at Leila--

No, he had to handle this first.

He had to…

… But for all of his good intentions, he found he couldn’t. When he saw her again, when he was able to see her breathe and listen to her speak, cheeks warm and expression vibrant, even with all of her exasperation in his games and ducking of the subject…  
Matthew couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her that he’d held her dead body in his arms, that he’d buried her alone on that island far away from both of their home, where nobody would ever be able to visit her grave--

He smiled weakly, and knew the expression was weak on his own face, even as Leila cheerfully greeted him with a lifted hand.

“Matthew. I was wondering when you’d pop up. I heard you were around here somewhere.”

Her voice was everything he remembered and more. It was amazing to him to think that so many of the details he’d sworn to himself that he would always remember had grown fuzzy and faint, despite his best efforts. Had she always said his name like that, the syllables soft on her tongue? She must have. Leila wasn’t the one who had changed.

Her eyebrow quirked.

Right. He’d just been staring, marveling, silent and awed, and Matthew slapped another smile on his face and felt frayed around the edges.

“So I am.” He shrugged with faux-casualness, hands behind his head. “I was actually stuck working on a bit of a job for the Commander, you know how it goes. No time to rest for people like us.”

It was a plausible enough excuse that she let him off the hook, though he could tell just by the way her lips quirked that she was still aware something was up. That was always something he’d treasured about her. She could read him like nobody else, not even the Young Master.

Leila’s skepticism didn’t stop her from responding with equal comfortable calm, though. “That is the job we signed up for, after all.”

It was so easy to be around her. That should have made it easier.

“Hey, Leila…” Matthew began, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. And again, he lost his train of thought, trailing off as she smiled at him, her hands propped on her hips.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, head tilting to the side. “You’re acting pretty strangely, you know.”

He laughed weakly in response, and the fraying only got worse, his entire facade unraveling bit by bit--hopefully not enough so to reveal the bare bones uncertainty and terror and heartache that he knew lay just under the surface.

Matthew had to tell her.

It wasn’t fair to keep it a secret.

Not when it concerned her more than anyone.

But he couldn’t, tongue numb and clumsy in his mouth when he tried, and ultimately all he managed to stammer out was a cheap, “Nothing’s the matter. I’m the same Matthew as always! Just like you’re the same--”

A ragged breath. It was like trying to drag a breath through a suddenly closed throat, but he continued nonetheless. “--You’re the same Leila.”

He couldn’t do this after all. He could see the way that her brows came together then, concern in every line of her face, but overlayed all he could see was how pale her full lips had become when she’d been left to bleed out like she meant nothing to the man who killed her.

Matthew took a step back.

“Sorry, sorry--we’ll have to catch up later.” Even as he mustered it up, Matthew knew that the grin he was flashing her was brittle and fragile. “I just remembered, I’ve got a mission to attend to. Can’t keep them waiting, you know how it is…!”

He could hear her call out to him from behind him, exasperation mixed with sincere worry, enough to to get her to properly raise her voice (a rarity, he knew, from long experience).

He didn’t stop, though, and she didn’t chase him, and Matthew was able to find some long-forgotten corner of the upper recesses of the castle before he finally crouched down and gave in to the urge to hyperventilate, cloak drawn around himself like a fragile shield.  
Well.

He’d had better reunions, Matthew couldn’t help but think ruefully, despite the way his own ragged breathing echoed in his ears.

\--

“Matthew,” came the familiar voice from a familiar, albeit usually less concerned face. Anna inspected him thoughtfully, finger tapping against her chin as she did.

“Commander Anna,” Matthew responded, grin plastered all over his face like usual. It didn’t seem to impact the concern on her face. He wondered just how badly off he looked right now, or if certain people were gossiping about him behind his back. He hadn’t been really listening to the rumors and gossip the past few days.

Anna was quiet for a moment longer, before she finally sighed, shaking her head. The young woman was faultless in her efforts as Commander--Matthew had done plenty of missions for her with Hector’s blessing, and each and every one had been well-planned and well-needed--and that was the only reason he was here right now, instead of continuing to avoid everyone while still attempting to pretend like everything was just fine.

It wasn’t exactly a flawless plan, but he was doing his best.

Still, the hope was that Anna would have a mission for him that would allow him to get away from the castle for a day or two (no longer that that, of course; Matthew still woke in a cold sweat every morning with the fear that Leila was gone once again, soothed only by seeing her alive and well amongst the other Heroes).

“Listen, Matthew…” Anna finally said with a sigh, crossing her arms as she looked at him firmly. The worried expression hadn’t budged. For the first time, Matthew considered that maybe this wasn’t about a mission, and surreptitiously began to look for an escape route.

“We’re starting to get worried about you. People have been noticing that you’re not acting like yourself.”

‘People’, Matthew assumed, meant ‘Loud-mouths like Serra’. He made another mental note to find her and tell her to mind her own business.

Anna continued, “I just wanted to pull you aside to remind you that we’re all in this together. You can rely on us. We want you to rely on us.”

Relying on other people, Matthew thought, was a good way to get yourself killed. His grin, he was pretty sure, was unwavering. When it became clear Matthew wasn’t about to respond, Anna just sighed, adding a final, “Do you understand?”

That, at least, sounded more like an order than a suggestion; Matthew just shrugged a casual shrug and offered up an equally casual, “Sure, of course I do. I may not be the most open guy around, but you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t overdo it. I’m not that kind of guy--the sort prone to bravado, you know?”

Anna’s expression eased a little in response, her lips curving into a faint smile. “If you say so,” she said, simply. “We’ll all be counting on that.”

In response, Matthew offered up a lackadaisical salute, and turned on his heel to go, tossing over his shoulder, “If you don’t have any work for me, then, I’ll be off.”

It was only after Matthew had taken his escape route that Anna realized that, placating as his tone had been, Matthew had never actually addressed any of her actual concerns--and then she pressed a gloved hand to her forehead and sighed. This was going to take the big guns to resolve after all.

\--

The thing was… it simply didn’t matter how confused or upset or absolutely useless Matthew was around Leila. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, like a spy to a secret. He knew she knew he was hiding something, and yet the thought of avoiding her for longer was impossible.

And so it was that, when he found her in one of the spare rooms that had turned into a storage room for the ragtag assortment of Heroes, Matthew didn’t bolt.  
Instead, he stepped closer, avoiding boxes filled to the brim and dusty shelves that threatened to bow under the weight of their shelves, arms tucked behind his back as he watched Leila at work. She hefted a large box up to a table, dumping it there with a huff, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand and succeeding only in leaving a dusty streak across it.

Matthew’s lips twitched despite himself, threatening the first real smile since she had arrived.

Leila rummaged through the box for a moment, though as she did, she called lightly over her shoulder, “I know you’re there, you know. You may as well come out now.”

This was no surprise, and there was none on Matthew’s face as he raised his hands placatingly, stepping out from where he’d been hiding, tucked behind boxes he was sure hadn’t been touched for at least a handful of months.

“I was just coming by to see if you needed a hand,” Matthew said, tone just as light.

Leila gave him a thoughtful look… but rather than press or bring up what had yet to be resolved or even given a name between the two of them, she just shrugged and gestured to him.

“I’m looking for something, and I was told I could find it in here,” she explained as he came to stand beside her, peering at the mess of boxes before them.

Anticipating his question before he even had to ask it, she added, “I was told I could find a mask in here. One of the other Heroes seems to have broken hers in one of our skirmishes, and requires another.”

Matthew’s lips twitched. This was either out of the goodness of Leila’s heart, or an actual, rather simply odd jobs request from their commander, and it said a lot about Leila that it could be either and she wouldn’t ever complain. Matthew felt a flash of deep affection for the other spy, admiration for her ability to balance her work with her surprisingly giving heart. Right. This was part of the reason he’d fallen for her all of those years ago, right?

So all he could really do was make a show of rolling up his non-existent sleeves (she rolled her eyes in response, but with a hint of amusement), and nod. “Let’s get started then.”

It soon became clear to both of them that this wasn’t as easy a task as it had first seemed. There were boxes upon boxes of various accessories, some of which neither Matthew nor Leila could really put a name to. It was comfortable working together like this, side-by-side, and they fell into an easy rhythm as they dug through the various items dumped into boxes in no particular order. There wasn’t any casual chatter, but it wasn’t necessary, either; Matthew and Leila had worked side-by-side many, many times before, and a task like this just tapped into what they already knew: nothing in the world felt more right than when they were working together.

It was only a short time later, covered in dust and having tossed aside a number of unrelated accessories, that Matthew stumbled across a delicate hair ornament made of blue flowers.

It wasn’t what they were looking for at all, but even so, he lifted it up and inspected it quietly with his eyes narrowed. Leila, still focused on the task at hand, lifted her head from where she’d been digging into yet another box to say, “Matthew, this box doesn’t have any masks either--”

He didn’t really think it through (but then, that was how he preferred to live his life anyway), rather stepping forward suddenly, leaning in to gently tuck the fringe of Leila’s hair away from her face, pinning it in place with the flower pin. His touch was gentle, and there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation in the action of it--

“It really suits you,” Matthew said, fingers lingering on the pinned back strands of hair.

Leila stared at him, lips slightly parted in the most minute expression of shock. From someone like her, it was practically a gasp of surprise, and Matthew knew it--it wasn’t necessarily out of character for him to flirt with the love of his life, but since she’d arrived, he’d been almost standoffish.

“Matthew…” she murmured in response, slowly lifting careful fingers as if to rest them over his fingers in her hair, tentative only as if to try not to scare him off.

They lingered in that position for a moment, and a second, and a third… and as Leila opened her mouth to say something, Matthew stepped back with a laugh that felt almost brittle.

“Anyway, here’s what we’re looking for, right?” With a flick of his wrist, Matthew made a mask appear from behind his back, tossing it to her. “Tell the ones in charge to keep this place better organized when you hand it over, all right?”

Leila snagged it out of the air neatly despite her mingled surprise and confusion, but before she could say any of the words that were clearly on the tip of her tongue, Matthew had turned, waving a hand as he retreated.

“Honestly… what’s the matter with him?” he heard her murmur, but by then, he was committed to his escape, and he didn’t turn back.

\--

One thing was for sure, Matthew knew. The situation couldn’t continue as it was currently. He’d gone back to avoiding Leila (to her concern, Anna’s consternation, and he was sure plenty of other people’s various opinions about his own damn business) after that brief moment they’d had in the storage room, and it wasn’t entirely by choice. He _wanted_ to be around her, St. Elimine knew. It was just that every time he looked at her, he felt nothing but deep, aching guilt--for not saving her, for not telling her her fate, for not coming clean…

“Maaaaaath...eeeeeew!”

He certainly owed her better than just trying to tell Leila to stay safe here behind the castle walls, only for her to rightfully snap back at him (honestly, what was he _thinking_?). He should’ve come clean then.

Instead, he’d spun some sort of weak, cheap story about how he was just worried for her abilities and wanted her to stay safe, and he’d bolted once again. Matthew had always known he was a coward (as far as he was concerned, that was a necessary part of being a spy, and the best way to stay a _living_ spy), but this time, even he was disgusted with himself. How could he have asked her to come home with him and to live the rest of her life with him if he couldn’t even bring himself to be honest with her?

“Ugh, seriously? _Math_ … **youuuuu**!”

His name was shrieked loudly enough, right by his ear, that Matthew legitimately jumped straight up to his feet much like a startled cat, reaching immediately for one of his many hidden daggers.

Serra stared back at him, hands propped on her hips, expression entirely unimpressed. “Hello. That’s sooo mean of you to ignore me like that, Matthew!”

Matthew blinked at her blankly. He had legitimately not noticed her, and even blaming how deep in thought he had been seemed weak. After all, this was Serra. She was about as subtle as a raging stallion, and with an even worse temper. He just sighed, shoulders slumping, and slowly lowered his hand.

“Cripes, Serra… what do you want this time?”

She pursed her lips at his tone, head tilting and pink pigtails swaying with the motion, as if trying to decide if she should continue with what she was going to bring up, or if she should get angry at him for this new show of disrespect.

Ultimately, the cleric just scoffed at him. “I’m here for your sake, Matthew. You should be praising me, not looking at me like that.”

Upon Matthew’s continued blank look, Serra just shook her head, continuing bluntly, “What are you going to do about Leila?”

It was blunt enough that Matthew started despite himself, before scolding himself with an irritated noise. That sort of tell could be fatal for a spy, and he really probably should’ve expected this. Or, if nothing else, he should’ve been on his toes enough to escape Serra before she could even begin to pry nosily--

Well, too late for that. Now he just needed another escape route. But Serra was staring at him expectantly, foot tapping on the ground, and Matthew knew that he had to at least come up with some response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matthew huffed out, arms crossed defensively in return.

Serra wasn’t having that for a moment. “Don’t lie to me, Matthew! I know better than that.”

He opened his mouth to refute that, scrambling for words, but Serra barreled on without pausing for breath.

“Why are you avoiding her? I know you’re not okay, so why are you pretending like you are?” There was sincere concern in Serra’s voice, and that alarmed Matthew the most; their relationship had always been one of give and take, of banter and mean comments and a distinct lack of concern, sans on the battlefield, and even then only when it was strictly necessary. So the fact that Serra was standing before him now, clear and plain worry on her face, worry for him, was almost too much to bear.

“Why don’t you just talk to her? She’s _Leila_ , Matthew. I know how close you two were.” Serra’s words were breathless now in her rush to get them all out, to make sure that Matthew heard every last one. “She deserves to hear it from you--”

Matthew flinched back, taking a step back in the same motion, eyes darting away to look for an exit--and Serra reached out to try to snag his cloak. It was an easy movement for him to twitch his cloak away, though, and her fingers closed on air, and then he was retreating, trying not to think about the worried, almost heartbroken expression on her face.

It was just Serra. She would get over it when she found a new distraction, or someone new to order around as a vassal, or _something_.

Right?

\--

On reflection, that sort of escape from Serra probably really wasn’t the best idea. Because it didn’t take long for Matthew to be stopped by Hector. And everything about Hector, from his flat expression to the way that he stood deliberately to block Matthew’s path, did not bode well.

“Hoy there, Young Master!” Matthew called out cheerfully, before he turned away and _booked it_ away from Hector as quickly as he could possibly run.

\--

Matthew was honestly not sure if this was Hector’s revenge, Anna’s revenge, Serra complaining until this very situation happened, or sheer bad luck. He supposed it didn’t really matter (and, in truth, going over that list of people he’d irritated over the past few days didn’t make a very strong case for himself). He was here now, and there was no avoiding that.

The battle wasn’t supposed to be too terribly dangerous--in truth, it wasn’t supposed to be a battle at all. Matthew and Leila were meant to be the forward scouts to determine the most advantageous ground for their next pitched battle, with two Heroes as bodyguard of sorts in the case of an actual scuffle. Matthew wasn’t sure if the Summoner had actually chosen Heroes purposefully, or if they’d just drawn the short straw, but there was an awkward sort of air to the small, ragtag group as they made their quiet, cautious way forward.

Or maybe the awkward was all in Matthew’s head. Michalis flew above them, silent and stern, and Leila had her eyes forward, focused on their mission, hand hovering over where he knew from experience her dagger rested. Seliph, at least, flashed him a slightly sympathetic smile before he moved forward to take point, a hand resting lightly on his sword hilt.

… Okay, so _mostly_ in his head, then. He could work with that. Maybe.

They moved silently, Matthew finally sliding into a groove of his own, trying to put out of his mind… well, _everything_ aside from their current mission. He needed to focus instead on the terrain they were approaching. Wide open plains, instead of the forested area they’d been wandering through before. It would be the ideal place for an ambush--

The peace and quiet exploded so suddenly it would’ve taken Matthew’s breath away if he wasn’t so used to it. Instead, the moment an arrow came hurtling through the air, Matthew’s dagger was out, the thief whirling to face the threat immediately.

From above, a shout from Michalis, some sort of warning, a count of enemy numbers, perhaps--

Matthew internalized it on automatic to examine when he had a moment to do so, his focus instead on the others. Seliph, straight ahead, blue ponytail whipping with his deft bladework. Michalis, above, swooping down on his wyvern to smash into one of the enemy combatants. And Leila--

Leila, tucking and rolling to avoid a lance, coming up beneath the reach of the weapon to slam her dagger into the soldier’s gut. He fell, and she turned, assessing the battlefield with quick, clever eyes. He saw something spark in her eyes, something that Matthew was sure was going to be some sort of plan--but he also saw a soldier with a raised sword behind her, the blade glinting in the sun. He’d deny it if asked later, but the truth was simple: Matthew panicked.

He panicked, spinning towards her. There was no way he could reach her in time. Even if he dropped everything and ran, even if there weren’t other soldiers between them--

Matthew did the only thing he could think to do. He flicked his dagger around in his hand, snagging the blade, aimed carefully, and flung it at the soldier behind her. The carefully balanced dagger flew through the air, beautifully on target… and thudded into a body that was already taken care of, Leila having long since turned to take care of the danger herself. She blinked at the extra dagger in the body bemusedly, but that was all the time Matthew had to watch her before he realized that he was now in a bit of a tight spot. After all, he’d just thrown his only weapon, and the enemies around him looked far from friendly.

Matthew grimaced a little, backing away from two lancers who had realized his relatively defenseless state, muscles tensed. It was all or nothing here. If he mistimed it, that was probably it for him--but if he timed it right, he still might be able to escape with his skin intact. He just had to--

There was a flash of red hair, the glint of two sharpened blades, and a scolding expression that was far too familiar. Leila didn’t waste any breath, though. Not in a moment like this. Instead, she knocked the lance away with a grunt, and then flicked Matthew’s blade to him with a quick toss. He knew it was coming, and snagged the weapon easily, shifting to stand back-to-back, feeling the comforting press of Leila’s shoulder blades against his back.

Right.

Now _they_ had the advantage.

Everything after that was a blur of swipe and counterstrike, dodge and slash, a blur or combat and yells and the sharp tang of blood in the air. With Leila at Matthew’s back, all he had to focus on was what was before him--because he could trust Leila with his life even more than he could trust himself.

The end of the battle came almost as swiftly as the beginning. One moment, the air was filled with the clash of metal and frantic yells, and the next there was only eerie silence. Matthew took a slow breath in, lowering his dagger just as slowly and glancing around the battlefield. In truth, it was more of a scramble, he could tell now; there weren’t more than half a dozen combatants on the ground. Seliph was cleaning his blade, while Michalis inspected a small cut in his wyvern’s tough hide. And Leila…

Leila grabbed Matthew’s cloak in a fist, yanking him forward, hissing sharply, “What were you _thinking_ , Matthew?”

It was rare for Leila to lose her temper, even-keeled as she tended to be; Matthew could only blink at her blankly, expression stunned. “What are you--”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!” She tugged him closer still, and Matthew had no choice but to go, eyes wide. “Why did you throw away your weapon for no reason?”

Ah. Right. _That_.

Matthew met her eyes, read the fear for him and worry and frustration in her gaze...and sighed softly.

“Right… yeah. You probably deserve the truth, right?” he murmured that with self-deprecating amusement, and something in Leila’s gaze softened a little. She didn’t release his cloak, though, and Matthew was very aware from that alone how angry she still was with him.

Her lips pursed. “You have been acting very strangely, it’s true. Nobody could give me any answers as to why when I asked around.”

Leila sighed. “They all said that you were fine. You weren’t injured, and nothing happened to you. So I agreed to leave it alone until you decided to tell me. But…”

“... But it’s getting a little tiresome to wait, right…?” Matthew finished for her, lips twitching ruefully. It was getting ridiculous at this point, even he could tell. He’d had so many reasons to not say a word, but in the end… hadn’t he just been in his own head?

Finally, Leila’s grip loosened, though her expectant stare remained on his face.

“Listen, Leila…” A breath in. A breath out. He’d rehearsed so many different ways to tell her, so many different times, but none of them had felt right, and none of them was right now. All he could do was go with his gut, and hope for the best, right?

He closed his eyes. “I’m from later on in our world than you are. You were caught in that last mission. You… were killed.”

Matthew’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see the way the pieces clicked into place for Leila. He did hear her quiet breath in, less of a gasp than he’d expected, and when she responded, it was just to say simply, “I understand now.”

In a way, that almost hurt more than had she been shocked. Slowly, he pried open his eyes, only to meet her calm expression. Why was she so calm about this? What wasn’t she screaming and crying, why wasn’t she arguing that he had to be mistaken…?

(Because Leila was nothing if not a professional, he _knew_ that. And as a professional, she knew they were always less than a step away from death.)

“Now I understand why you were acting the way you were acting,” Leila murmured, almost musingly. “Oh, _Matthew_. You’re such an idiot.”

That startled a laugh out of him, weakly. “For having feelings…?”

She made a face at him. “Don’t be dense.”

And then she tugged on his cloak again, tugging him into a kiss, their lips meeting gently. When she pulled away, it was to murmur, “For not trusting me with your secrets.”

And in all honesty? Matthew couldn’t argue that one.

(The moment was brought to an end quickly when Michalis cleared his throat, huffing out an irritated, “If you are both finished with your melodrama…” even as Seliph tried to hush him.

Matthew flashed Leila a rueful smile, one she matched with a weak smile of her own, but her eyes were bright.)

\--

Ever since Matthew had bailed on him so abruptly before, Hector had been biding his time, waiting for his chance to properly pin the slippery thief into a corner so he could interrogate him without him running away once again. It wasn’t an easy task, that was something he knew better than anyone.

And that was why Hector was sneaking.

It didn’t come naturally to him (you could just ask Lyn, and she’d have plenty of stories to tell), but once he removed his armor and _tried_ , he was at least not at the levels of “clanking, loud armory approaching” loud. He hoped.

Regardless, he had heard that Matthew had been seen on one of the upper balconies of the castle, which seemed like the perfect place to corner him, and so Hector did his best to sneak there with minimal knocking over of various castle artifacts. He was sneaking so intently, in fact, that Hector didn’t realize he was nearly there until he heard the sound of...laughter?

It was absolutely laughter, and then low murmuring, and he paused for a moment. Was this the wrong balcony? Was he about to interrupt something he definitely did not want to interrupt?

… No, he was in too deep now. He had to see this through to the end, regardless of if he would find his wayward spy, or some Heroes from other worlds canoodling. Painstaking step by painstaking step took him close enough to peer towards the open doors to the balcony, squinting as he tried to spy his...well, spy.

And sure enough, there was Matthew, leaning against another familiar spy. Leila’s smile was small, but gentle, and she nudged shoulders with Matthew purposefully in response to whatever it was he’d said. Matthew just laughed in response, open and warm and honest.

Well then, Hector mused as he slowly backed away. It seemed as though Matthew had figured it out for himself, and would no longer require his intervention. That was probably for the better, honestly; Hector knew he was no good at that sort of emotional talk.

Their time in this world was temporary, and undoubtedly there would be some difficult decisions to be made in the future. But for right now? His spies were happy, and that was good enough for him.

Sometimes, life was that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> Matthew/Leila was one of my very first FE ships, so once I realized they could properly have a reunion, I had to go full ham. Whoops. WORTH IT.


End file.
